Ironside AU - WHI: All in a Day's Work – What if…?
by Mounty Swiss
Summary: Quote by Cy Chermak: "Ed McBain/Evan... chose to do a television episode … I believe the show was written for Raymond. He said he was tired and needed a rest... We re-did it for Barbara instead..." What would the episode originally have been like?
1. Chapter 1

**Ironside AU/WHI: All in a Day's Work – What if…?**

_Quote by Cy Chermak, found at "__Reveal Shot", which is__ authored by __David B. Wilkerson__:_

_Chermak:__ "Ed McBain/Evan... chose to do a television episode … I believe the show was written for Raymond. He said he was tired and needed a rest... We re-did it for Barbara instead..."_

_What would the episode originally have been like? I have no idea. Some scenes would work about the same way as with Eve, others would have been different. I'm only interested in the latter. Here are a few ideas about them._

_Disclaimer: The original Ironside episode "All in a Day's Work" is not my property and neither are the characters in this story; I'm just playing around with them!_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"He's dead," stated Sgt. Brown, appalled. He looked up to Ironside and Eve and saw his feelings mirrored on their faces. Gently he pulled the stocking mask up and over the dead man's head. A very, very young face appeared.

Shocked, Ironside stared at the boy. He had not wanted to kill him, not at all, although he had shot at Eve Whitfield. The fleeing intruder had stumbled over a barrel, causing the bullet to hit him deadly instead of just stopping him.

This didn't change the fact that Ironside had killed him after all.

Eve was rattled too. Only a few moments ago they'd had such a good time together, and now a man was dead. It could have been her, but for the Chief's fast reaction. A look into his closed face prevented her from thanking him for saving her life. He would not have appreciated it right now.

The sound of a siren approached. Soon the scene was brightly lit by spotlights and crowded with policemen and gawkers.  
It looked like any other crime scene – but it wasn't. Eve and Ed did their job talking to the only witness, the jeweler, and preserving any clues. Mark was the silent observer, as usual. Ironside barked his orders. But he sat in his wheelchair like petrified, withdrawn, his facial expression unreadable, and even for his friends, who knew how gruff he could be, his voice sounded unnaturally grim.

He had shot a kid. He kept telling himself that it had been an accident, he had only wanted to defend Eve, but he could not convince himself.

His friends suffered with him. Ed kept quiet, as he did so often, helplessly, not finding the right words. Eve finally plucked up courage, "Chief, please remember that he shot first. My life was at stake."

"But he was so young!"

Mark countered, "Nobody with a gun is young! You give a kid an equalizer and he ages pretty fast."

Ironside fell silent. More than ever he felt imprisoned in a crippled body, glued to a wheelchair he hated with all his heart. He couldn't even bend down and examine the body himself, look for evidence explaining what had happened...

After what seemed a very long time Mark took the initiative. "Chief, there's nothing you can do here. We should go home."

Ironside wanted to shake his head. Every fiber of his body wanted to stay, as if – as long as he was at the scene - he could maybe reverse the timeline and undo what had happened.

He didn't though. For one thing Mark was right. As a matter of fact there was no reason to remain here. For another he was simply unable to move his head. His body had been immobilized for too long, now it seemed to be cramped. Distracted from the horrible facts for a moment he concentrated on the small movement, and he managed, but it caused a great deal of pain.

Did Mark notice it? At any rate he pushed the wheelchair towards the paddy wagon without awaiting an answer. They were the last ones to leave the crime scene.

* * *

Mrs. Matling, Billy's mother, hadn't known that it had been Ironside who had shot her son. He would have her voice in his ear for as long as he lived: "I _curse_ the one who killed him!"

Yes, Ironside already felt cursed. The shadow of a seventeen-year-old had fallen over his life, leaving it dark and grey. The terrible pain in his back, which had been bothering him since the night of Billy's death, was not nearly an adequate punishment, he thought in a spell of depression.

He pulled himself together. This was nonsense, of course; Matling had been armed and dangerous. He'd _had_ to shoot him to save Eve's life.

It didn't help. The idea was stronger, the pain was not adequate...

His staff had to bear the consequences. He bullied them around, ranted at them at every opportunity and was impossible to please. In his heart he berated himself and struggled to stay calm – without any success.

His friends knew him well enough to understand. They were unhappy and they suffered with him; they didn't hold it against him.

One day when they were alone, Eve, who'd never had to kill in the line of duty, asked anxiously, "He'll get over it, won't he, Ed?"

Ed shook his head, his low voice full of concern. "Eve, you don't ever get over it. You adjust to it."

* * *

Meanwhile Ironside went to talk to Nancy Lewin, Billy's girlfriend, 10 years his senior.  
Her grief was as heartbreaking as his mother's, and she saw Billy as a kind, caring soul. His bullet had destroyed the joy of her life.  
The picture of the porcelain-like doll would be burnt into his soul forever.

According to the people he had not only shot a seventeen-year-old, but a model youth. Within a few days the newspapers would get the story and blow it up: "San Francisco's former Chief of Detectives becomes trigger-happy. Nobody can be safe anymore!"

Normally Ironside wouldn't have cared at all about the newspapers, but in this case he needed to be sure that they were wrong.  
Was it the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? It really didn't ring true. At the very least Matling had robbed a jewelry store. Ironside could not stop looking for evidence that he had not been the model youth people wanted him to be.

Mr. Raynold had been Billy's boss. There were rather steep stairs to go up to his office. Usually Ironside managed to surmount such obstacles. His handicap was there all right, but he fought for his independence and did on his own whatever was possible, and with his strong arms and his courage he was capable of doing things people thought were not possible.  
Now everything was different. He felt stiff and insecure. He should have called for help, but his pride did not allow him to bother anybody. Turning all his fury into energy he pulled himself up the stairs, almost pulling the handrail off the wall.

Raynold confirmed Nancy Lewin's picture of a perfect young man, although accentuating less his gentle side and more what a good and ambitious worker he had been.

When Ironside wanted to know if Billy had ever asked for more money than his boss could pay him he rubbed salt into Ironside's wound. "You mean like the kind of money he could make with a jewelry store robbery, is that what you mean? You don't fool me for a minute. I read the papers. I know who killed little Billy. Billy was a good kid. And you got no right goin' round shootin' good kids!"

Ironside turned around and wheeled out. Too late he remembered his trouble with the steep stairs. Doubt, grief and an indefinable feeling of guilt made him indifferent, even careless. His momentum threw him down the steps and he landed hard on the ground.

This accident was definitely too much for his already hurting back. It took all his self-control not to cry out.

Mark, who had been waiting in the paddy wagon, saw him fall and ran over. Not sure about how badly his boss was injured he called an ambulance. Very carefully Ironside was taken to St. Mary's.

* * *

Faithfully his friends called St. Mary's, but every time there was a young nurse who told them that Mr. Ironside could not have any visitors.

Ed, Eve and Mark felt helpless and very worried. Had his accident done some severe damage to him? He had been like knotted since that unfortunate day. Was he still in too much pain to see them? Had he broken down under the pressure? Had the mental exhaustion been too much? Had he fallen into a depression? It sounded very unlikely, Ironside was such a strong man!

Finally Ed overcame his natural diffidence and fought his way to the Chief's room. He hoped that he would be able to distract him by asking for his help.  
Actually they had found out that their main suspect was John Harry Keswick, and that he would be playing cards at the Wiggly Arms Hotel, room 312, that very night.  
Ed would ask Ironside about how they should proceed. Having a job to do would maybe set his energy free.

A young woman – probably the nurse in charge of the Chief's care – opened his door. "I can't let you..."

Yet a determined Sergeant just smiled at her mechanically. "Sorry, it's important," he said and stepped around her.

A look back at Ironside's face convinced her that he would probably handle this situation his way... anyway.

Later on, Ed could not have said what exactly had gone wrong, but it must have gone _very_ wrong, otherwise the Chief would not have blinked.  
When Brown had started to explain to him what they had found out, Ironside had struggled to pull his body up. Ed had hurried to help him the way he had seen Mark do it. Had he made a wrong movement, or was he just not strong enough? He didn't know. At any rate the movement must have caused terrible pain to the patient. Ironside suppressed a cry, but his groan cut through Ed's soul. He let go, and this was probably wrong again. "Sorry, Sir...!"

"I don't need your flaming help!" shouted Ironside, and Ed left, upset.


	2. Chapter 2

Brown knew that he had to solve the case without bothering Ironside anymore. The one person who might be able to help him was Commissioner Randall. He called his office and was immediately admitted. Before he could ask for support Randall asked him sharply how the investigation was getting along. "As long as Chief Ironside is in the hospital, you are in charge, Sergeant. There have been enough rumors about police brutality. You have to clean your boss. I want results, and soon!"

With a heavy heart Ed went back to Ironside's office. The responsibility seemed to constrict his chest like a clamp. He could hardly breathe.

"Dinner will be ready in five minutes," Mark informed him.  
It was chili. Mark didn't know why he had chosen Ironside's favorite dish without him even being there. Perhaps the taste would somehow bring him closer.

"I'm not hungry."

Ed remained standing in front of Ironside's favorite window, staring outside. This usually seemed to help the Chief solve his problems.  
On Ed it didn't have this effect.

Mark felt rejected by Ed's refusal of the dinner he had prepared and he was annoyed about his using the Chief's favorite window to contemplate. As soon as Ironside was away he had to play boss. The Chief would have cut his wings. Who did the pompous big head think he was?!  
"Want his wheelchair too?" Mark sneered.

"Want my job?" Ed grunted back.

Eve had come back from the bathroom, where she had freshened up her make-up, and heard their quarrel.

"Oh, come on, stop acting like a couple of silly schoolboys, you two! The Chief needs us so badly right now. Can't you think of _him_ for a change, just for a minute?!"

"Yes, we can," Ed answered flatly without turning around. Actually he couldn't think of anything or anyone else, while the Chief was in terrible pain because of him, the Commissioner wanted the case solved and Eve and Mark were mad at him... he was at wit's end.

A nuance in his voice made Eve prick up her ears. She stepped over to him, not wanting to hold a conversation with his back.

"Ed?"

The expression on his face alarmed her. He looked more square-jawed than usually, haggard and drawn. "When was the last time you had a decent meal, Sergeant Brown? And have you slept at all since 'it' happened?"

Brown just shook his head, leaving open what question he was answering. Most probably both.

Eve swallowed.

"Ed, we can't do this without you. But Mark has a point: you don't have to shoulder the entire responsibility. Mark and I are grown-ups too, and the Chief means as much to us as he does to you. Let's do it together. And first of all sit down and eat a bite. Please."

He nodded, not sure if he could control his voice. These were the first friendly words he'd heard in a long time.

He struggled to make them happy and not only push his food around... with modest success, though.

What had happened to the guy who always merrily polished off the rest of her every hotdog, hamburger or sandwich? Eve thought.

Finally he stopped pretending and put his spoon down definitively. "All right, that's where we stand right now..."

He explained to them how he intended to catch John Harry Keswick in that hotel room.

* * *

As it turned out, Keswick was not there. Yet his buddy Artie admitted to meeting him in Golden Gate Park at two a.m.

With a team of officers it should be possible to catch him there.

The rookie Sergeant scratched his head. If he wanted to pull the operation through he needed the permission of a superior officer.

Eve's thoughts had never left Ironside. "Go back to the Chief and ask him to OK it. He is our boss. He might be hurt if we pass him over."

Ed sighed inwardly. Ironside had been quite clear this afternoon when he threw him out. But then... he still felt guilty about the pain he had caused his model. He owed him every chance to improve, even if it meant that he might get bawled out again.

* * *

It was almost midnight when Brown reached St. Mary's. He was about to enter Ironside's room, but hesitated.

Sister Agatha caught up with him.

"May I disturb him?" he asked, hoping halfway that she would forbid it.

"Why would he be disturbed by you?"

In a few words he explained what had happened earlier today.

"Whatever you did to him – it didn't happen today!"

Gloomily the Sergeant stared at her. She sounded as angry as the Chief himself.

"Nobody can pull themselves up by their own bootstraps, not even Mr. Ironside – although he is the strongest person I know. He has been suffering under some kind of mental block since this incident. Most of his pain is psychosomatic. This situation is exactly what he needs his friends for, but where are they?! You let yourself be sent away by a handicapped man like a coward!"

Ed had got about all the censure he could take for one day. Was there anything he had done right these days?

Sister Agatha was versed in reading people's faces. The Sergeant was on the verge of breaking down... Why? Because of the lack of sleep, of food, because of unease or too much pressure? Maybe a little of everything.

'_Robert, why have you chosen this boy as your right-hand man?' _she thought._ 'He looks so much like any other youngster. I won't believe that you picked out an oversensitive, incapable person to help you. You always take the best... Lord, let me help this young man find his inner strength... for his own and above all for Robert's sake!'_

Her voice was much softer when she asked, "Why do you think Chief Ironside chose you, Miss Whitfield and Mr. Sanger as his team?"

Ed pondered the question for a moment. "Eve is very smart and sensitive, and she always finds the right words. Mark is intelligent too, and he's strong and has great potential."

"And what about yourself?"

He shrugged his shoulders, clueless. He was used to thinking about his flaws, and trying to work on them, but not about what might be positive about him. "I have no idea."

This was probably a sign of sincerity and modesty, but right now it didn't help much, thought the seasoned sister.

"Then tell me what he expects from you."

"He expects me to think for myself, to take responsibility and to know when to call for help."

"All right, do it then!"

Brown looked confused. "Think, take resp...?" Suddenly an idea formed in his mind.

Sister Agatha observed him quietly. "What are you waiting for, young man?!"

Politely, but with the slightest trace of impatience in his voice, he answered, "Sister, will you just give me a minute to get my plan waterproof, please?"

Very pleased with that undertone she grinned openly. "Now, that's exactly what Mr. Ironside expects from you. You will do just fine. And about choosing you as his right-hand man: you don't think that he would settle for second best, do you?"

That was a strange way of seeing it, he thought, as he entered the Chief's room.  
He didn't have much time left. "Sir, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I need your help."

"What took you so long?! I understood that you had something to go on!"

Relieved, Ed explained his slightly changed plan without mentioning the four officers he had called in as backup. Ironside was instantly on fire.

"Get that dragon sister for me. I have to get up!"

Ed found Sister Agatha immediately in the hallway, almost as if she had been waiting for him.  
She grumbled at Ironside because nobody in their right mind would want to leave a hospital in the middle of the night – but that was to be expected, he thought.  
Then she left to get him his release papers, secretly winking at Ed and letting him help Ironside dress.

It wasn't going to be easy to get Ironside into Ed's Ford but, with time against them, they tried anyway - and managed.  
Always sticking to speed limits – although just barely – Ed drove to Golden Gate Park. By radio they advised Eve and Mark to be ready with the paddy wagon.  
An unmarked police car with four officers followed them. Eve had instructed them about the operation as Ed had told her.  
Nobody knew anything about the small changes of plan though, since Ed had no opportunity to inform them about them. Ed could only hope that they would work...

* * *

It was almost two in the morning when everyone was in position.

Right on time Keswick appeared out of the fog.

Ed stepped out of the bush. "Stop, police!" he shouted, pointing his gun at the suspect.

Keswick turned around, only to be faced with Eve, who had walked towards him.

Running towards Eve, he pulled a gun and shot at her, missing her by far.

Ironside, who had been waiting behind a tree with Eve, saw her in danger again.

Pulling his gun and shooting happened in one single movement. Keswick cried out and fell down.  
Carefully Ed and Eve closed in on him. He clutched his injured arm and didn't resist at all.

The uniformed policemen worked together like a well-oiled machinery. They arrested Keswick, read him his rights and took him to headquarters.  
Walking past Ironside, one of them greeted him, "Well done, Chief, congrats! It's great to have you back."

* * *

When Ed came up to the office after finishing the paperwork downstairs, he found Eve writing the report and Mark preparing some more chili – _much_ more.  
Ironside was brooding over a map of Golden Gate Park. His look could have killed. "Whose bright idea was it to set me up? You didn't need me. You had Eve perfectly covered with all those policemen!" Not even the fact that Keswick had described Billy as a "trigger-happy" criminal helped him calm down about this scheme.

Ed was far too tired to look for an excuse. "Mine," he admitted, dejected.

"Who the hell do you think you are?! I don't need no flaming rookie to cure me! You incited Eve and Mark, who were unable to say no. If it makes you happy to run this office, so go ahead and try it. I won't stand in your way. I'm leaving!"

"Sir, where are you going? It's not the way you think. Ed didn't bully us into helping. We didn't even know his plan, but we would have been happy to help you get back on track. Please, Chief, hear me out!" Eve tried to appease him.

With difficulty Ironside rolled his wheelchair up the ramp without any help.

Mark stopped stirring around in the big pot. Just when Ironside opened the door he shouted, "Chief, you can't walk out on us with all that chili!"

None of the three dared to look up towards the door when it closed with a bang.

Had Ironside really left them for good?

Yet a moment later Ironside slid back down the ramp.

"Thinking about it – I can't let that chili go to waste. Come on, let's have it for breakfast. Don't just stand there, this is a working day!"

* * *

**_Author's note:_**

_Ok, dear readers and also writers, that's not what the original story was like, I'm sure we agree on that._

_Challenge: Who writes another variant? Or one centered around Ed Brown?_

_Or is there anybody out there who knows the original? If so, please, please let us know!_

_And thank you, ever-patient Lemonpig, for your much apprechiated help!_


End file.
